


Steve Rogers in the 21st Century

by hotchoco195



Series: Stevie Rogers [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Avengers: Assemble, Angst, F/M, Friendship, Grief, Modern Life, PTSD, SHIELD, So much angst, female!Steve, post-ice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6299425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ve been asleep, Miss Rogers,” he said grimly, “For almost seventy years.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve opened her eyes. She was lying on a cot in a small but pretty room, the window open to let in the sound of traffic and a light breeze that made the curtains sway. She was wearing a tight white SSR tee and khaki pants that weren’t hers, hair loose but neatly combed. The radio was playing a Dodgers game, and the whole scene would have been one of peace and contentment if not for the weird mechanical humming and flicker of fluorescent lights that she could hear through the thin walls.

She sat up carefully, muscles feeling stiff. That in itself was weird and frightening – she never felt sore in the mornings, not even after the roughest fights or longest days. Steve took a moment to flex her limbs, testing her body until she felt less tense. She breathed deeply: there was no tightness to her chest, which was reassuring. She looked around for a mirror but there wasn’t one.

The door opened and a woman in SSR uniform entered, long wavy hair brushing her shoulders. Steve had trained with female agents and been taught the same lesson: having your hair down was dangerous in a combat situation – it could be yanked by the enemy, or catch on something, or get in your eyes. It was discouraged in the field and completely forbidden on base.

“Good morning,” she smiled, checking her watch, “Or should I say, afternoon.”

“Where am I?” Steve demanded.

“You’re in a recovery room in New York City.” She smiled, apparently not put off by the gruff question.

She was lying; even without Steve’s previous doubts, she could hear the tiny spike in the woman’s heartrate. The blonde looked around, trying to get some idea of what was going on, but it was just an ordinary room. She decided to see exactly how unshakeable that smile was.

“Where am I, _really_?”

The woman barely faltered, just a slight bemused twitch to her mouth. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“The game. It’s from May 1941, I know cos I was there.”

The woman – agent, assassin, whatever she was – froze, eyes turning slightly panicked. Steve felt disgusted; not only were they sloppy enough to try and trick her without checking all the facts, but they couldn’t even keep the lie going once they were caught.

She stood, drawing nearer. “Now I’m gonna ask you again, where am I?”

“Miss Rogers-”

“Who are you?”

The door opened and a couple of men in what looked like HYDRA body armour walked in, armed. Steve shifted her weight, heart speeding up.

“So, it’s like that, huh?”

 

Steve jumped through the hole she’d made in the side of the fake recovery room and ran, sprinting through a building with huge glass walls. More agents followed her, a whole flock of them in suits and fighting gear, but she was too fast. She dodged a line of guards in the main lobby and shot out onto the street. She didn’t think about where she was going, just ran. There was a comforting lack of bullets flying at her or bombs going off, and as she kept running she realised that the streets were kinda familiar. It looked like New York, but there were things that didn’t fit: the cars were wrong, and the outfits. She sprinted into an open space and stopped, staring as she fought to catch her breath.

It was Times Square but everything was different, the familiar billboards replaced by giant light-up signs. There was honking behind her and she turned as three black sedans pulled up with their headlights on, blocking an escape that way. At the same time, a voice yelled behind her.

“At ease, agent.”

Steve spun, arms up for a fight. There were another three sedans on that side, and in front of them stood a man in a dark coat with a matching eyepatch. He wasn’t pointing a gun at her, but he seemed dangerous all the same.

He walked towards her, stopping just out of reach. “Look, I’m sorry about that little show back there but we thought it’d be best to break it to you slowly.”

“Break what?”

“You’ve been asleep, Miss Rogers,” he said grimly, “For almost seventy years.”

Steve took a shaky breath, looking around. It sounded like bullshit but it had to be true, right? There was no other explanation for the weirdness around her. What happened after the plan went down? What about Peg, and the Commandos, and the SSR? What about the war?

“You gonna be okay?” the man asked.

Steve shot him a wry look. “Oh sure. Just a usual day for me.”

He smiled, which Steve appreciated. “Let’s sit down and talk about it. My name is Director Nicholas Fury, head of SHIELD – the agency that grew out of the SSR. My office is back the way you came-”

“No,” Steve pressed her lips together, “I’m not going back there until I know what’s going on.”

“Okay,” Fury nodded, and Steve decided she definitely liked his style, “Let’s find somewhere to get a coffee.”

The director waved to one of his men and the sedans started pulling away, leaving only three guys to trail Fury and Steve across the square and up 7th. Not too far down they found a place with a huge green and white sign over the door.

“Starbucks?” Steve asked.

“Franchises – you’ll get used to them.” Fury waved her inside.

 

The three agents cleared them a couple of tables in a back corner. Fury and Steve sat together, the others spread out to ensure them some privacy. A perky waitress brought over a couple of big clear containers full of pale brown, milky liquid, and Steve managed half a smile for her before she walked away.

“What is this stuff?” the blonde tilted her cup.

“It passes for coffee, though certainly not the good kind.” Fury snorted.

Steve took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “Sugary.”

“That’s the way tastes run these days. War rationing ended a long time ago, but I think we’re still makin’ up for it.”

“You said seventy years.” Steve leaned back in her chair.

“Almost. It’s 2011. April 24th, to be exact.”

“That’s…” Steve shook her head, “How is that possible?”

“When you crashed the Valkyrie into the ice, the serum prevented the damage from killing you. But you were frozen, comatose. Howard Stark spent years trying to find you and never could.”

“Howard?” she looked up.

“He died about 30 years ago. Car crash.” Fury said gently.

“Agent Carter?” Steve sat up.

“She’s alive. You could see her later, if you wanted. Might make everything more…real.”

Steve bit her lip. “Tell me what happened with the war.”

“HYDRA was finished when you killed Schmidt.”

“I didn’t kill him,” she insisted, “The Cube did.”

Fury arched a brow but continued. “Allied forces marched into Berlin not too long after that. The SSR packed up, moved back here. Became SHIELD.”

“What about the guys? The Commandos?”

“I can get you copies of their files.”

She grimaced. “They’re dead too, huh?”

Fury shrugged. “It’s been a long time, Stephanie.”

“ _Steve_ ,” she scowled, “Steve is my name. Stephanie’s the one Colonel Philips tried to fob off on me.”

“My mistake.”

Fury took a big gulp of his coffee and set the cup back on the table, passing it from hand to hand distractedly.

“You know the army tried to bury anything related to Project Rebirth?”

“Yeah. They didn’t like the results.”

“Well the SSR didn’t care either way. Your friends and colleagues there kept the stories going, and we have Agent Carter’s records. We’re the only ones that know who you are, Steve, and what you did for this country.”

“Is that supposed to make me trust you?”

“Nah. I just wanted you to know why I’m concerned about your well-being. We wanna help you, Miss Rogers. We owe you that.”

Steve sighed. “What does that help entail?”

“Come back to HQ with me and let the docs check you over. We’ve got rooms where you can stay for a couple of days while we make sure everything’s good; after that, there are apartments in the city we use for our agents. You can take some time to catch up on things, ask questions, think about what you wanna do next.”

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice, huh?”

“You’re not a prisoner, Miss Rogers. You’re not even an agent anymore, unless you wanna be. You’re free to do as you please.”

Steve rubbed a hand across her forehead before letting it drop to the table. “I guess I could use some help.”

*****

Being examined by SHIELD’s doctors was surprisingly comforting. It wasn’t that Steve had worried something might be wrong with her – the serum made that almost impossible. It was more the feeling that she was back in Erskine’s lab, under the watchful eye of the kindly old man, not having to do anything but follow instructions and answer the odd question. The feeling was spoiled when she realised she didn’t know what had happened to him, a sick wave of grief washing over her.

“Miss Rogers, could you flex your arm for me?” one of the doctors asked, a needle in hand, “We’d like to take some blood samples.”

Steve curled her arm against her chest unthinkingly, frowning. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The doctor blinked, a cheery smile stuck on her face. “Miss Rogers, I assure you it’s a perfectly harmless, regular procedure.”

“Let’s just say I have some trust issues. I think I want to get to know you people a little better before I go sharing my DNA.”

She looked annoyed now, lips pursed. “Miss Rogers, we already collected multiple samples while you were unconscious to check for various diseases and disorders. Director Fury has imposed very strict biohazard containment and disposal regulations for your organic material; there’s no need to worry. We’re not going to turn you into a guinea pig.”

Steve didn’t totally believe her, but if it was true that they’d already taken samples there wasn’t much point being squeamish about it now. She held out her arm and flexed, sighing as the tip pricked her skin.

 

After Medical were finished making her do star jumps and lift weights and pass various bodily fluids, Steve sat down to put her borrowed shoes back on. The door opened and an agent sauntered in. She was black, just above average height, and lean without being skinny. She must have been about Steve’s age but the well–tailored suit and shaved head made her look older until she smiled.

“Sam Wilson,” she offered a hand, “It’s an honour to meet you, Miss Rogers.”

“Thanks.” Steve shook.

“Director Fury’s asked me to show you to your room.”

“Can we take the scenic route?”

Wilson frowned. “You don’t have clearance to move freely around the restricted areas.”

“No, I meant the view outside. Can we walk by those big windows I saw earlier?”

The agent perked up. “Sure. Right this way.”

She led Steve down the hall and around a couple of corners until they came to a long, wide passage with tall ceilings and one wall of windows. The blonde walked up to the glass and stopped, staring at the familiar-but-not skyline. She almost wished everything was different; it might be easier to process than this mixture of new and old.

Agent Wilson didn’t rush her, hanging back as Steve moved down the line, stopping now and then to examine something more closely. Finally they reached the end of the hall, Steve putting her hands in her pockets glumly.

“Must be a lot to take in.” Wilson said.

“It’s unreal.”

“We wanna help, Miss Rogers. We’ll do whatever we can to ease your transition.”

She smiled wryly at her reflection. “I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make this easy.”

She took a last look and turned, following Agent Wilson into the elevator. They exited on a floor that looked like a normal apartment building or classy hotel, the doors marked with brass numbers, the hallway cameras discreet compared to the ones downstairs. Wilson stopped outside room 616 and swiped her ID through the card reader, the door clicking open.

It was a small studio, comfortably but cleanly furnished in sensible fabrics and colours, no decorations in sight. There was a lounge area with a couch and coffee table in front of a hi-tech screen as thin as paper, the kitchenette similarly shiny and futuristic with a lot of complicated-looking compartments. A second door led into the bathroom; the bedroom was concealed by a mostly opaque glass panel that was just tall enough for Steve to see over if she stood on tiptoes. There were no windows though.

“The kitchen’s stocked, and there are some spare clothes in the wardrobe – nothing fancy, but you’ll probably wanna buy your own stuff anyway once you get out of here.”

 

She handed Steve an ID swipe card with her name and picture. There were a bunch of numbers and codes she didn’t understand, and a big label that said ‘LEVEL 4’.

“This is yours. It opens any door you have access to. You can’t leave the building until you’ve been cleared, but let me know if there’s anything you want from outside and I’ll get it for you. Director Fury would prefer you stay in your room while we determine if you’re susceptible to our present-day viruses and bacteria, but you’re free to walk around the building. We don’t want you getting cabin fever.” She smiled.

“What about my door?” Steve asked, “Who’s got access to that?”

“At the moment it’s me, Commander Hill, Director Fury, and the assigned med staff. Don’t worry though, we’ll knock first.”

“How reassuring.” Steve  muttered as the agent turned on the TV.

“Director Fury had the research team put these together when we found you.” Wilson said, flicking through a complicated menu with her fingers, “Each folder has a brief introduction on the subject – technology, history, pop culture, whatever - and then more detailed videos broken down by time period, so you could either go through it topic by topic or decade by decade, whichever works for you.”

“Uh, thanks. I guess I should start with history?”

“It’s got voice command, so just say ‘Computer, play’ when you’re ready,” she opened the file and hit pause, “Is there anything else you need, Miss Rogers? Help with the kitchen? Company?”

The blonde bit her lip. “I think I’d like to be alone for now. Thanks though.”

Wilson gave her a breezy smile. “Alright. Well if you need me, just ask the computer and I’ll get the message.”

Steve frowned at her. “You know, you’re not really what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” she tilted her head.

“Someone more like Director Fury. Serious, detached.”

Wilson shrugged. “Takes all kinds, Miss Rogers.”

“It’s just Steve.”

“I’ll check in on you later, Steve.”

She let herself out and the other woman looked around with a sigh, not sure what to do with herself. Steve liked knowing where she stood; she liked having a plan. Now she was so out of place, surrounded by all this stuff that seemed normal but looked and behaved totally wrong.

“Kinda like you, huh?” she snorted.

She had an overwhelming urge to just lie down and let her mind rest, but her body was shouting at her to keep moving, keep assessing, keep safe. In the absence of an assignment she might as well do her research. Steve rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and drawers fruitlessly before finding a notebook and pen in the coffee table, then made herself comfortable on the couch.

“Computer,” she said, feeling like an idiot, “Play.”

 

Steve rubbed her eyes, glancing back over the scribbled notes on her page, arrows and lines pointing to some sentences, a couple heavily underlined. She felt like someone had cracked the top of her head open and poured information in, the images and sound bites leaking out through her pores. She’d made her way through all the basic clips, figuring she’d save the bulk of the info for another day, and it was still too much to process.

The world was a very different place now, full of wonderful new tech Howard would have sold an arm to get a look at and opportunities for anyone who wanted them. It was also the same old shithole, with prejudice and crime and a depressingly high amount of greedy, selfish people. Steve didn’t know if she was disappointed or not; maybe it was silly to wake up in the future and expect humanity to have changed, but she felt a little cheated that she’d fought so hard and lost so much to keep people free, only to find they’d barely noticed. She didn’t like to think she’d been fighting for their right to make _bad_ decisions, but she supposed forcing them to be better would make her as bad as Schmidt.

She navigated her way around the tiny kitchen, truly unsure what to do with the bounty of ingredients in the pantry and fridge, and settled on toast because it was the least daunting option. She washed up and changed into a clean shirt and some soft flannelette shorts, and climbed into bed more from habit than any desire to sleep. Steve closed her eyes and let it just wash over her, losing herself in the noise.

She didn’t know what time it was when someone knocked softly, but she slipped out of bed and took a balanced stance behind the partial cover of the couch – just in case.

“Hello?”

“Miss Rogers, it’s Agent Wilson. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” She relaxed.

The door opened and the agent came in with an armful of glossy paper. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”

The blonde glanced at the clock, brows shooting up. It was after midnight? When did that happen? “It’s okay, I wasn’t sleeping.”

The other woman gave a knowing look but didn’t comment. “How are you doing? Did you watch the videos?”

“Some,” Steve scratched her thumb over her forehead, “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I don’t doubt it. You managed okay though? No issues?”

“I found everything I needed.”

Wilson held out her bundle. “Here, I thought these might come in handy.”

Steve took them, studying the front cover with a frown. It was a picture of a giant chocolate cake. She flicked through the stack and found a range of different foods, from steaks and soups to smoothies and noodles. “Recipe books?”

“I know there’s a video on cooking in the Tech folder, but that’s more about microwaves and food processors than actual techniques. We’ve come a long way since the ‘40s – you can get just about anything in New York, and there’s a million different ways to serve it. I thought you could have a look at some simple stuff, experiment a little.”

Steve smiled gratefully. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure where to start. I grew up in the Depression, and then we had rations during the war…not a lot of variety.”

“Well feel free to ask if you need help or ingredients. I love baking.”

“I will.”

“Good night, Steve.”

For a second she considered asking the agent to stay and distract her from the poisonous loop of her thoughts, but it was late and for all Steve knew Wilson had a family to get home to. Other people had those; they had normal lives and places to be. So instead she just smiled.

“Good night, Sam.”

*****

Steve spent the rest of the night reading her new books and making a list of what she wanted to try – which was pretty much everything, just written down in order of priority. In the morning she had to do an hour on the treadmill while they hooked her up to various machines; Steve spent it thinking about pepper sauce and cauliflower cheese. The doctor peeled the various sensors off her chest and gave a tight smile, noting something on a tablet.

“We’ll need you to come back this afternoon and do another hour, Miss Rogers.”

“My muscle mass seems fine, ma’am.”

The woman made a stern face that implied she was used to dealing with difficult agents. “We need to make sure there’s no deterioration. 15:00 at the latest, Miss Rogers.”

She sighed. “Yes ma’am.”

Steve didn’t bother showering since she was only going upstairs anyway; she’d rather clean up in private. She pulled a singlet on and left the lab to find Agent Wilson checking her phone in the hall outside. She looked up with a smile, tucking it away.

“Hey. How’d it go?”

“Everything’s fine, just like yesterday.” Steve rolled her eyes.

Wilson shrugged, leading her towards the elevators. “Better than the alternative, right?”

“I guess. I’ve definitely been sick enough for one lifetime.”

“Plus you’re getting some exercise instead of being stuck roaming the halls. Gotta focus on the positive.”

Steve smirked. “Oh yeah. Sports bras – miracle of modern science. Could take or leave the treadmill though. I like some scenery when I run.”

“Well once you’re out of here you can do all the picturesque jogging you want.”

The blonde stopped. “What if they don’t clear me?”

Wilson placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Then they’ll find a way to fix it. Director Fury wants to get you back in the world.”

“So I can acclimatise and go back into the field?” she guessed.

Sam smiled. “Probably. That something you’d be interested in?”

“Ask me in a month or two.”

They started walking again, joining the cluster of agents waiting for the elevators. Some of them looked at Steve curiously, nudging their neighbours. She ignored it.

“Sam, do you mind if I ask you a favour?”

“Sure.”

“I was reading those cookbooks you gave me, and I put together a bit of a grocery list. I was hoping you could pick some things up.”

“I’d love to. Need any help cooking?”

Steve shook her head. “I’d like to have a go myself first. But I could use a taste-tester.”

“Sign me up.”

 

Despite the strangeness of waking up in a new reality, Steve’s days quickly fell into a routine. She’d have breakfast, then watch one of her videos. After the morning lab tests, she and Wilson would tackle something complicated for lunch, the agent offering tips and appreciative comments that Steve was pretty sure she didn’t deserve – she wasn’t a bad cook, but she certainly wasn’t great either. Wilson left to work on her other assignments, and Steve spent the rest of the afternoon watching more debrief presentations and going over her notes, putting together a picture in her head of everything she’d missed. She had her afternoon tests and washed up before making dinner. Afterwards she took a long walk, making the most of the empty hallways to wander and admire the city lights outside. When it got so late she couldn’t keep her eyes open, she reluctantly went to bed, but she only slept an hour or so, some nights less. How could she sleep? She’d spent decades doing nothing else, and she didn’t have any more time to waste.

The only thing Steve didn’t do was think about her future. She knew she should have been making plans, deciding what she was going to do with herself once she left SHIELD, but it hurt too much. Every time she tried, all she could think of was the life she’d imagined with Bucky: the wedding at St Agnes’ and the children they’d adopt, going to art school, having their own place. She watched him fall but hadn’t really given up on it, figuring that after Schmidt was dead she could search Europe until she found the brunette; waking up to the realisation that life was never going to happen was like a new knife in her heart.

Steve was getting tired of constantly having the rug pulled out from under her. First Project Rebirth, then falling for Bucky, then losing him, then waking up in the 21st century – her life was a shifting, changing thing, slipping out of her grasp just when she had it pinned down. Maybe that was just reality; maybe it was the same for everyone. But if there was one thing Steve was going to do with her second chance, it was find something she wanted and hold on.

 

She was watching a video on 1980s pop culture, mostly staring at questionable hair choices and wondering just how widespread the cocaine problem was back then. She got the feeling SHIELD had censored that info a little bit; there’d been a quick mention of it during the synopsis of Reagan’s War on Drugs campaign but she had to believe no sober person would think shoulder pads and neon mullets were a good combination.

There was a knock and Steve paused the video. “Who is it?”

“Sam.”

“Come in.”

The smaller woman opened the door, a tray with a couple of takeaway coffees in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. “I got breakfast – thought you might want a break from cooking.”

“I don’t mind it, actually. It might even be relaxing once I stop panicking about using the blender.”

Wilson giggled, sitting on the couch. She set the coffees between them and opened the bag, taking out a bagel before handing the rest to Steve. “How are you going with your debrief?”

The blonde made a face. “The videos are good, but they’re a little…basic. There’s uh, there’s a lot of stuff in there I already kinda figured. You know, the US vs. Russia Cold War stuff. Civil rights movement. Computers.”

“Fury wanted to make sure they covered as much as possible without overwhelming you. He had some very strict ideas about culture shock and giving you too much to process at once.”

“See that’s the thing – I don’t get overwhelmed easy,” Steve tapped her head, “Super serum.”

“Right,” Wilson nodded, “I keep forgetting. You just seem so…”

“Average?” Steve grinned.

“Yeah – no offence.”

“None taken. I’m looking forward to being ordinary again.”

Wilson gave her a sceptical look and Steve laughed.

“Well maybe not ordinary, but a regular tax-paying member of society at least.”

“And we wanna help you. I could ask them to make some new videos-”

“That’s one idea. _Orrrrrr_ ,” Steve ripped off a piece of bagel, “You could teach me to use the Internet. Then I could figure stuff out for myself.”

Sam arched a brow. “You think you can handle it?”

Steve pouted. “Wilson, how am I going to adapt if I can’t use email or Google? From what I’ve seen, nobody can go an hour without them anymore.”

The agent looked thoughtful, sipping her coffee. Finally she sighed. “I guess if your brain hasn’t exploded by now, the Internet’s not gonna do it. But if you go into a meltdown, don’t tell anyone I helped you. I don’t wanna be known as the agent who broke Steve Rogers.”

“My lips are sealed.”

 

Wilson came back after dinner with a slick black laptop and spent a couple of hours showing her how to use it. It didn’t take Steve long to pick up the basics; it took even less time to realise that the human race were a perverse group of sex-obsessed weirdos, and that Wikipedia was 50% helpful and 50% bullshit. But at least she could type up her notes and organise them for easy access, and with such vast stores of knowledge at her fingertips she could cross-check facts and find alternate perspectives, chasing down the things she really wanted to know.

One of the first things was the war – not so much the outcomes and policy, which had been covered in her video summary, but the people. There were plenty of old photos and documentaries about WWII, and she combed through it all looking for the tiniest trace of her squad. It felt stupid and desperate, but she needed to see them. In her head it only felt like a couple of days since they’d stormed Schmidt’s base together, and she needed the crackling black and white footage to understand just how much time had passed. Her friends were old or gone. They might remember her fondly, if they remembered her at all, but they’d lived their lives without her and she couldn’t slot herself back into them now.

Steve carefully didn’t think about Peggy. According to Fury’s files she was living a bus ride away in D.C., and yet there was so much distance between them Steve didn’t know how to cross it. It was a gamble – either Peggy was the same as she remembered, in which case Steve would feel depressed about missing out on her life, or she’d be completely different and the blonde’s fond memories would be tainted by images of a stranger. She didn’t want to risk that.

Steve was getting used to the idea that she had no one, despite Director Fury’s promise to help her adapt. She had no old friends, no family, no familiar neighbours, no surviving comrades. Once she left SHIELD it would just be her, one of the millions of New Yorkers, no more special or famous than anyone else. She’d never had that before; even after her parents had died she’d had Bucky and his family, and some acquaintances in the neighbourhood. Then she’d had Peggy and Erskine, and the girls at the Academy, and the Commandos. Steve had spent her life surrounded by good people, and she had to believe that she’d find them again – but it was very hard in her solitary, windowless room.

 

Steve sat on the exam table, clutching the edge of the cushion as the doctor read over her notes. The silence seemed to drag on, the occasional beep of equipment the only distraction.

“Your results look good, Miss Rogers. There’s just one thing.”

“You want me to do a couple miles, make sure I haven’t forgotten how since yesterday?” Steve joked.

The doctor gave a sour smile. “I was going to say we need your signature here confirming your release.”

“Ah. Right.” Steve hurriedly took the tablet and stylus, scratching her name on the line.

“You’re free to go then,” the doctor took it back, “I’ll let Director Fury know.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Steve nodded and let herself out, heart beating faster at the thought of leaving the building and breathing some actual _air_ for once.

Agent Wilson was waiting by the elevators, and Steve bounded over to tell her the news.

“Dr Manchen cleared you, I see.”

“Yep. How soon can I get out of here?”

“They’ve prepared an apartment for you.  We can leave as soon as you’ve packed.”

Steve frowned. “I don’t really have anything.”

“You’ve got your laptop, your toothbrush. What about your cookbooks?”

“I kinda figured you’d want them back.”

“Think of them as a house warming gift.” She said as they stepped into the elevator.

“Thanks, Sam – for everything,”

“Are you kidding? This was way more fun than my usual assignments.”

Steve made a face. “I doubt babysitting me could be more fun than…whatever it is you do.”

“Hey, most of the people I work with don’t spend their days making me chicken noodle soup and cheesecake. It was a welcome change.”

 

The apartment SHIELD had given her was in a pre-war townhouse in Bushwick, not far from the park. Steve walked around the lounge room, gaping.

“This place is huge.”

Sam laughed. “It’s pretty standard for the era.”

“Not in my neighbourhood. There you were lucky if you weren’t sharing with another family, ten of you all crammed in together. I mean it must be three times the size of my Ma’s place.”

“You should make the most of it – make friends, host some raves.”

Steve frowned. “Raves?”

“That wasn’t included in your cultural studies? The lab techs have some questionable taste.”

“They probably say the same about you.” Steve smirked.

Sam scoffed. “Please! In fact, I’ve been putting together a little playlist to catch you up on your essential tunes.”

“Thanks.” Steve said, wandering into the kitchen.

Sam leaned over the counter, holding out the keys. “So you can stay as long as you want. Don’t worry about the bills – SHIELD will pick up the tab.”

“I appreciate the gesture, but I’m gonna find my own place as soon as I have a better idea of the local real estate situation.”

The agent raised her brows. “Fair enough. I can point you towards some useful sites.”

Steve nodded. “I just want somewhere that’s mine, you know? Where I can get comfortable. Ground myself.”

She certainly wasn’t lacking the funds for it. When Steve disappeared, her SSR pay had sat untouched, accruing seventy years of compound interest – not to mention the hefty compensation SHIELD had paid out for her time in the ice. Steve wouldn’t have to work unless she wanted to, which gave her plenty of time to adjust, learn, and try to get her head straight.

“Well if you’re good, I should head back to HQ.” Sam straightened.

“Actually,” Steve bit her lip, “Um, would you mind…”

“What’s up?”

“I wanted to go clothes shopping, and as much as I’d like to do it alone and prove I can still talk to regular people, I’m not really sure about…well, any of it. The clothing stores are all different and there are so many new styles, and I’m not 100% sure what I like or even what looks good on me. After the experiment Pe-my old C.O. picked out a lot of my wardrobe for me, since I wasn’t used to women’s clothes.”

“You want a second opinion?”

“Please.”

Sam beamed. “Sounds fun. You wanna go now?”

Steve gave a relieved smile. “That’d be great.”

 

Sam led Steve through the aisles, taking a red dress off the rack and holding it up in front of her.

“What do you think?”

“It seems a little, uh, short?” the blonde blushed.

“You can flash a bit of skin, Rogers. It’s not 1940.” She put it on the top of the pile clutched to Steve’s chest.

“Easy for you to say. I’ve only been in 2012 for a week.”

An older woman standing nearby raised her head with a frown. Steve gave her a nervous smile as Sam steered her away.

“I get that you prefer jeans and a tee, but you need at least a couple of nice going-out dresses.”

“I know. I’m just uh, adjusting to what that means now. ‘Going-out dresses’ used to have about five times more material than these.”

Sam put her hands on Steve’s shoulders. “Relax. I’m Agent Good Taste, remember? I’m not gonna dress you like a stripper – though God knows you could pull it off.”

Steve flapped a hand at her, flustered, and Sam turned back to the hangers.

“Wait, how do strippers dress?”

The agent laughed. “You’ve never seen one?”

“No. Wasn’t exactly my scene.”

“You can Google it later.”

Steve’s gaze narrowed. “Do I want to?”

Sam shrugged. “I dunno. Do you like naked girls?”

“Sometimes.”

“What about naked guys?”

Steve looked down, stomach clenching painfully. Sam frowned.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to imply anything. I was just curious-”

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said quickly, “The question’s fine, it’s just…”

“The answer?” Sam offered.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t stress. I won’t pry if you don’t wanna tell me.”

Steve smiled. “You’re a spy.”

“Right now I’m just Sam, stylist to the elderly.” She winked, flicking through a row of navy blue shirts.

Steve hugged the clothes tight, eyes on the ceiling. “I guess the short answer is ‘Sometimes’.”

Sam glanced back, meeting her gaze with a nod. “Alright.”

“What about you?” the blonde blurted, immediately cringing, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I like beautiful people, no matter which department they shop in.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Sam snorted. “You’re pretty relaxed for your generation.”

“I’m not exactly conventional, am I?”

“Good point. Come on, let’s hit the fitting rooms before you collapse under the weight of all those clothes.”

 

Shopping turned out to be kind of fun, Steve trying on outfits and letting Sam pass judgement, twirling in front of the mirrors. They managed to find a style that suited her but didn’t make her feel naked, ending up with about twenty key pieces Steve could expand on once she had a better idea what she needed. She felt bad enough having that many – it seemed obscene for anyone to own more than a couple of outfits, but then they weren’t living in the Depression anymore. She was allowed to own things without worrying she was taking food out of her ma’s mouth, or Bucky’s, or her own.

The blonde still almost had heart failure when they got to the register.

“$20 for a shirt? That’s outrageous!” she hissed.

“That’s like a dollar where you’re from, Rogers. Now hand your card to the nice sales assistant so we can get on with our day – we still need to get shoes and underwear, and a phone.”

Steve pouted. “Why? I don’t have anyone to call.”

“You’ve got me, for a start. Plus you said it yourself, no one can get by without constant access to the Net. We just need to figure out if you’re an Android or iPhone kinda girl.”

They spent another couple of hours shopping, and Steve thought it went well; she understood about 70% of the slang she heard and saw, and (regrettably) knew all the celebrities on the billboards and glossy tabloid magazines.

A hundred times she saw something and went to tell Bucky, only to remember he wasn’t there. The enthusiasm or curiosity would drain away, replaced by dull, heavy sadness. Steve couldn’t help thinking if Bucky had come to the future with her, it would have been a great adventure they could have figured out together; instead she just felt slow and sheltered when she didn’t understand something that should have been easy, no matter how nice Sam was about it.

They headed back to the apartment, Sam pulling the car up outside. “I won’t come in – gotta head back and make my report. Fury’s probably freakin’ out about you settling in.”

“We can’t have that,” Steve smiled, “Thanks for today.”

“Anytime. Seriously, I mean it: next time you wanna try a recipe or go out, give me a call. You’ve got my number now.”

The blonde waved and got out, grabbing her many bags as if they weighed nothing. She headed inside and got the door open, lining everything up on the kitchen counter. It was too quiet; she turned the radio on, tuning it until she found something she could deal with. Steve cut the tags off her purchases and hung them in the closet, then stood in the middle of the strange apartment full of someone else’s furniture.

“So,” she sighed, “What now?”


	2. Chapter 2

Steve’s fist slammed into the punching bag, the force rattling the screws in the ceiling. In her dreams she’d seen her hands again, scratched and bloody as she dug in the snow, fists carving out a hole with no end and coming up empty. She’d woken up shrieking Bucky’s name. There was no point trying to get to sleep after that; at least at the gym no one complained when she screamed her frustration.

She hit the bag harder, hammering out her rage, fighting the rising tide of memories that poured in uninvited. She’d been trying so hard not to dwell on the past, not to let it taint her present, but it wasn’t possible. Everything she did was framed in terms of the people who weren’t there, the years she’d missed. She thought of Peggy, frail and old; she thought of Dum Dum and Jones and Morita, their names lost to the ages. She thought of Bucky and growled again, fists speeding up.

Her arm shot forward savagely and ripped the bag off its chains, the heavy projectile flying across the gym. It hit the floor and burst, sand spilling out, and it was all Steve could do not to wail. She took a breath, remembering a time when even something that simple was a struggle, and picked up the next in a long line of bags. She hooked it up and took her stance, fist jabbing into the canvas.

“Trouble sleeping?”

“I don’t need it.” She said without turning, Fury’s footsteps conspicuously loud behind her.

She wasn’t going to ask how he’d known she was here – she wasn’t stupid. SHIELD existed to keep an eye on people like her. She just wished he’d go away and leave her to her restlessness.

“Then you should be out celebrating, seeing the world. Making up for lost time.”

Evidently he wasn’t leaving until he’d said his piece. Steve clenched her jaw but stopped punching, striding towards a bench. She sat, unravelling the tape on her hands.

“I don’t have a lot to celebrate.”

Fury looked at the ceiling, voice casual. “Some people would say being _alive_ is reason enough.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You here with a mission, sir?”

“I am.”

“Trying to get me back in the world?” the blonde sneered, “I haven’t decided yet whether I wanna sign up for your gang.”

“Apparently you don’t have anything better to do,” he smirked, expression turning serious, “We need you, Rogers. You specifically.”

He held out a manila folder. Steve just stared at it for a moment, knowing that if she took that file she’d be back in it: an active field agent again, risking her life, maybe her teammates’. She’d be taking another step towards moving on and leaving her old life. It was ridiculous – two months ago she’d been in 1945 and now the whole universe had changed.

She took the folder, and immediately wished she hadn’t.

“HYDRA’s secret weapon.” Steve muttered, staring at the picture of the Cube.

“Howard Stark fished it out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought what we think, that the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That’s something the world sorely needs.”

 

She wanted to make some snappy remark, remind him she’d watched his stupid videos and knew all about the fossil fuels crisis, but all she could do was stare at the photo. After everything that had happened, how could Howard think meddling with that thing was a good idea? How could he leave it in the hands of people who’d never experienced the damage it could do?

“Who took it from you?

“He’s called Loki. He’s not from around here.”

“Neither was the Cube.”

“There’s a lot we’ll have to bring you up to speed on if you’re in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know.”

Steve fixed him with an acidic look. “Do you hear yourself when you talk? I’m living in the future, sir.”

Fury chuckled. “Agent Carter said you were quick. There’s a briefing pack waiting for you back at your apartment.”

“Funny,” she stood, “I don’t remember giving you a key.”

“I had a feeling you’d wanna sign on.” The director smiled wryly. Sometimes he reminded her so much of Philips she wanted to curse; sometimes it made her want to cry.

Steve picked up one of the punching bags, walking towards the hallway. Fury called after her.

“Is there anything you can tell us about the tesseract that we oughta know now?”

“Stark should have left it in the ocean.” She banged through the doors, turning the corner.

Steve carried the bag to the storage locker and dumped it against the wall, pressing her back into the cool plaster and sliding down until her ass hit the floor. She was gasping for breath, chest too tight, skin clammy. She was hot and cold at the same time, shivering so hard her teeth clacked together. Her heart palpitated wildly, feeling like it was going to burst through her skin, and she felt like she might pass out.

She’d only _just_ finished dealing with all that Cube bullshit. Steve had spent the last couple of years rushing across Europe blowing up Schmidt’s factories and trying to destroy every trace of the damned thing, and now when she was finally free it was back again, as if it had chased her through the decades just to continue ruining her life. She couldn’t escape it, even after most of a century had passed.

That was the other thing – it had been seventy years since the war, but the Cube was only missing now that she was back. What was that? Fate? Coincidence? Dumb fucking bad luck? Was she destined to fight its awful, devastating power until it killed her? Just looking at the photo of it made her want to crawl under her bed and hide, and forget all the men she’d seen blown apart by those eerie blue rays. And Fury wanted her to help them? She hadn’t started training to get back in the field yet. She hadn’t even decided if she wanted to or not.

Steve hugged her knees, dropping her head down to try to catch her breath, closing her eyes to focus only on the cool, calming quiet of the empty gym outside. What could she do? The director was right about her being the best agent for the job. She was the only one with firsthand – recent – knowledge of the Cube, and she was genetically engineered to always be ready for a tough fight. What if she did nothing, and people died? She wouldn’t be able to live with that, even if the alternative made her wish she’d never been dug out of the ice.

What would Bucky have said? Probably that it wasn’t her job to save everyone all the time, and he’d have been wrong because that was what Erskine made her to do. Besides, what was she doing with her second chance anyway? Spending nights at home alone watching bad TV and eating microwave dinners, and lying in bed staring at the empty pillow next to her.

“Okay, Steve,” she exhaled shakily, lifting her head, “Let’s get on with it.”

 

The jet rocked slightly as they hit a patch of turbulence and then straightened out. Steve didn’t relax though, hand clutching the edge of her seat hard enough to bend the metal. There was a sharp ache in her back teeth and she realised she was grinding them hard enough to be audible; the blonde forced her jaw apart, inhaling shakily.

“I gotta say it’s an honour to meet you, Miss Rogers.”

She grasped onto the sentence, letting it distract her as she gave Agent Coulson a wry smile. “I didn’t think anyone knew I existed.”

“Oh you’re a legend at the Academy. Going rogue and rescuing hundreds of POWs, leading the Howling Commandos, volunteering for Erskine’s experiment? Those stories are very popular among the younger cadets.”

“I’m sure they tell plenty of unsavoury ones too.” Steve made a face.

Coulson frowned. “Ma’am?”

“There were guys in the SSR who liked to joke about how I earned my command. Sometimes they were even stupid enough to do it to my face. I’m sure some of those stories got passed down too.”

The agent ‘s expression flickered, and just for a second Steve got a sense of how dangerous Coulson might be under the amiable, professional façade. “Things have changed since those days. We have lots of female agents in high-ranking positions; the deputy director, Commander Hill, is a woman. No one at SHIELD would underestimate you based on your gender.”

Steve raised a sceptical brow and Coulson shrugged.

“The ones stupid enough to make that mistake don’t last long. They get drummed out of the Academy or killed in the field. I’m not saying the world’s perfect – there are still plenty of jackasses out there who look down on women. We just try to keep them out of our organisation.”

She sat back, face thoughtful. That made sense, and it was true none of the agents she’d encountered since she woke up had asked about her gender or sexual history except the doctors who checked her over. Maybe she didn’t have to be so defensive. “Thank you, Agent Coulson. Sometimes I need reminding we’re not in the ‘40s anymore.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

The quinjet approached an aircraft carrier, one solitary grey bump in the middle of open ocean, and landed so calmly that Steve didn’t get more than ten seconds into a panic attack before their wheels touched tarmac. She still felt wobbly as the door opened and Agent Coulson waved her forwards, but she managed to get to her feet and stumble out. Looking at the waves made her want to throw up so she turned her back on them, and instead studied the redhead waiting to greet her.

“Agent Rogers, welcome. I’m Agent Romanov.”

“It’s good to meet you, ma’am.”

 “Likewise,” her eyes flicked over Steve from top to toe before darting to Coulson, “The director’s inside.”

“Let’s not keep him waiting then.” The agent walked off.

Her gaze followed him, a mischievous smirk growing the further away he got. “Did he give you the hero of the Academy speech yet?”

“He did,” Steve smiled, “It was sweet.”

“I thought he was gonna have a seizure when they found you in the ice. If he starts bugging you, just ask about his days as a Ranger. That usually distracts him pretty quick.”

The bigger woman eyed her with amusement. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Come on,” Nat jerked her head, “I’ll show you around.”

*****

Steve ran a hand over her new suit, feeling exposed. It was made out of some dark skintight material that Agent Coulson assured her could stop bullets but it certainly didn’t feel like much protection, and she envied the male agents in their heavy tac vests. The blonde cheered up slightly when she reached the quinjet and found Agent Romanov wearing an identical suit. The redhead handed her a long case.

“Fury said these belong to you.”

Steve sat as the pilot buckled in and ran the pre-flight checks, her fingers fumbling at the case’s latch. The lid popped open to reveal two long metal rods packed in foam, the light giving them a faint sheen. She stroked her finger along the length, biting her cheek to avoid betraying the emotion twisting in her stomach. Suddenly she was excited about the mission – her old team might be gone but she was still here, and she could still help people.

The quinjet had them across the Atlantic in fifteen minutes, the blonde watching through the front window as they flew over terrain she’d trekked on foot not too long ago (or most of a century, depending who you asked). It was dark over Europe, the city lights a sight she wasn’t used to. She liked them: it looked the way she’d always seen it in old movies. She wished she could have seen it like that with Bucky.

They began their descent into Stuttgart, heading for the coordinates Sitwell had sent through. Steve checked her gear, drawing her staves.

“We’re about thirty seconds out, Rogers,” Natasha called, “I’m gonna lower the back for you.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and stood in front of the cargo door, shifting her feet anxiously. A moment later it fell open with a hydraulic drone. Steve could make out a large group of people below, all kneeling except two small figures. One of them was wearing a golden helmet that shone in the streetlight.

“Alright, I’m going in!”

“Good luck.”

She dived through the opening, hanging in the air for one gut-wrenching moment before flipping the right way up, landing hard. A second later something blue filled her vision, and she had just enough presence of mind around the automatic panic to bring her staves up, the energy shooting back at her attacker and knocking him on his ass.

“So you’re the new nutjob who wants the Cube?” she tilted her head with a critical look, “Well you’ve got more style than Schmidt, I’ll give you that. Better looking too, but then that’s not hard.”

Loki stood, grinning manically. “Ah, the shield-maiden. Agent Barton was very complimentary about you.”

“I think you’re confusing me with Romanov.”

The quinjet finished its’ circle, facing the alien again. A machine gun dropped down, aimed at the dark-haired man.

“Loki, drop the weapon and stand down.” Natasha’s voice came through the speakers.

“See, that’s her.” Steve smirked.

 

Loki flicked his sceptre forwards faster than was humanly possible, launching a bolt of blue at the jet. Steve swung her staves up, one taking him across the jaw as the other hit his arm, but he countered like he hadn’t felt it, his staff twisting to try to wrench them out of her hands. She glanced back, searching the sky for the jet, certain she’d just gotten her squad killed by running her mouth – but the plane was there, Natasha visible behind the controls. They were okay.

Loki’s sceptre caught her across the chest, bouncing her across the square as screaming civilians ran in all directions. Steve got to her knees to find Loki already charging towards her. She swung a right hook at him and he ducked, sceptre rocketing towards her head. The blonde leaned back, catching herself on her hand as its sharp edge skimmed past her jaw. She propelled herself to her feet, dodging an overhead swing that drew sparks off the stone and driving her fist into Loki’s side, fingers pounding the leather of his armour. The god slashed his staff back in a hit that shot her onto the steps, looming over Steve before she had a chance to recover.

Loki rested the tip of his sceptre between her eyes. “Kneel.”

“You could at least buy me dinner first.” she sneered.

She smacked the metal aside with one hand and jumped straight up, foot whipping into his face. Loki stumbled back and she followed through with another kick; she tried for a third and he grabbed her ankle, tossing her over his shoulder. The god chuckled low, walking towards her, the tip of his spectre glowing an eerie blue.

Loud music started playing, seemingly from the quinjet. Loki and Steve both paused, looking up as a bright light swooped through the air like a shooting star. It came towards them and then sparks exploded out, connecting with Loki’s chest and blowing him onto his back.

The object crashed to the ground hard enough to rumple the brickwork and Steve could see it was a man covered in metal armour. He stood, aiming his hands at Loki, half a dozen panels on the suit sliding back to reveal missiles and lasers.

“Make your move, Reindeer Games.” He said, voice a gravelly challenge.

Steve hurried to her feet, coming up to support the newcomer with her staves raised. Loki’s gaze darted between the two of them and then his armour faded in a golden glow, leaving him with his hands up, looking almost pathetic.

“Good move.” The armoured man said, lowering his weapons.

Steve gave a pained grin. “Mr Stark.”

“Rogers. Would it be weird to ask for an autograph?”

Her lips twitched. “Maybe after we take the homicidal maniac into custody?”

“Right. Up you get, tiger.”

 

Stark leaned his arm on the slight lip where the cockpit joined the rest of the jet, unashamedly running his eyes over Steve. The blonde glared, folding her arms over her chest.

“Can I help you?”

“Just admiring Dad’s work. I can see why he never shut up about you.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?” she snorted.

“Yeah, but I’m better-looking.”

Steve smirked. “If you say so.”

Tony shifted his shoulders like a bird ruffling its feathers. “You’re holding together pretty well for a nonagenarian. Must be all that beauty sleep.”

Steve narrowed her gaze, about to chew him out when she was cut off by a rumble outside. Loki glanced up nervously as the jet shook. She knew how he felt, her heart jumping into her throat.

“What’s the matter?” Tony scowled, “Scared of a little lightning?”

“I’m not overly fond of what follows.” The god drawled.

The inventor continued in the same cheery tone. “Personally I like the rain. What about you, Rogers?”

Steve’s withering response was interrupted by a blinding light that filled the jet, something hitting the roof with a heavy thunk. The back door flew open and a tall, heavy-set blond strode in. He grabbed Loki by the throat and took off, Tony and Steve staring as they tried to hold on.

“Great. Knew I should have stayed in bed.” Tony sighed, dropping his faceplate.

“What are you gonna do?” Steve demanded.

“Get our crazy terrorist back.” He sauntered towards the opening.

“How about an actual _plan_?” she growled.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

He shot out of the jet, leaving Steve cursing the air. She drew her staves, shaking her head.

“I’d sit this one out, Rogers. Boys being boys and all that.” Natasha said.

“We don’t have the time to waste.” She sighed.

“At least take a parachute.”

Steve beamed. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She ran forwards, jumping off the edge of the ramp. The forest was a dark blur below her, trees reaching up into the black, mountains jutting out at odd angles. To her right she could see a series of flashes and sparks that had to be Stark and the interloper. The blonde turned her attention to the ground that was rapidly getting closer, looking for a convenient landing spot.

There was a tree with some particularly dense branches; Steve tipped herself forward, arms stretched out. The staves hit wood, absorbing the impact of the sudden stop. She bounced a couple of inches into the air and started dropping again, smacking the vibranium rods into the next branch to shave a little extra off the force. Steve kept up the rhythm, hopping her way to the bottom, until with a gentle thump she set her feet down. The agent turned, taking off through the woods.

 

The lights were brighter now, the sound of explosions and falling trees carrying easily through the quiet night air. Steve bounded over roots and furrows, sprinting towards the fight. She burst in on the unknown blond and Stark facing off across a ruined clearing, the stranger holding a thick mallet-like weapon, Stark’s repulsors glowing.

“Enough!” she yelled.

“I have no quarrel with you, maiden,” the bigger man said without taking his eyes off Tony, “I only wish to put an end to Loki’s schemes, if this warrior will stop interfering!”

“Then we all want the same thing,” Steve said firmly, walking towards him, “Why don’t you put down the hammer and come with us? I’m sure Director Fury will wanna hear what you have to say.”

“This is an affair of Asgard, and I shall handle it on the Allfather’s behalf.”

Steve blinked, trying not to betray that she didn’t understand half of those words. “Well it’s happening here, so we need to cooperate. What happened to Loki?”

Tony and the newcomer exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

“You _lost_ him?” Steve growled.

“I had him in hand, until the metal man interrupted our private discussions!”

“Oh, I interrupted?” Tony scoffed, “I’m not the one who burst into a plane unannounced and snatched our prisoner!”

Steve rolled her eyes and pulled her arms back, throwing both staves. One spun across the clearing and smacked into Tony’s helm, making him stagger; the other clipped the blond in the cheek. He barely moved, frowning as he pressed his fingers to the point of impact.

“If you’re both done?” Steve sighed, “We’ve got a planet to save.”

*****

After much grumbling and threats, the trio managed to find Loki waiting patiently on the mountainside and coordinate with Natasha to be picked up. They rode to the helicarrier in tense silence, handing Loki over to a troop of SHIELD agents as soon as their wheels touched the tarmac. Steve marched through the corridors, doing her best impression of a brick wall as she ignored Tony and Thor still sniping at each other behind her. Natasha seemed equally bemused, the redhead shooting her a look every so often that Steve couldn’t decipher.

They took their seats around the ops table, a monitor flicking on to show Fury and Loki bantering through the solid glass of the containment cell. Steve rested her elbows on the surface, hands clasped against her mouth as she stared at the dark-haired god. He was laughing and gloating, still so smug, still so certain. She had an awful feeling they were playing right into his hands.

“How are we going to find the Cube if Loki won’t tell us where it is?” she asked quietly.

“Fury’s got contacts in labs all over the world,” Tony muttered, “With enough spectrometers we should be able to pin it down.”

“But the main plan is still getting that wacko to give us something concrete?” she pointed at the screen.

Thor frowned. “Take care, shield-maiden. Loki may be troubled but he is still my brother.”

“Which makes you the resident expert,” Tony drummed his hands on the table, “So come on, what’s the scoop?”

The god scowled at him, but responded calmly enough. “He has an army called the Chitauri. They’re not of Asgard or any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth, in return I suspect for the Tesseract.”

“You sound pretty sure. How tough are these guys?” Natasha held his gaze.

“They are fierce, relentless, and their numbers far outweigh your own – not to mention their superior weaponry.”

“So he needs to open another portal,” Stark leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, “That’s why he needs the Tesseract, and Selvig.”

“Selvig?” Thor sat up.

“He’s an astrophysicist. He was working with SHIELD, until your brother hijacked his brain.”

“He’s a friend.” The blond frowned.

Steve rubbed a hand over her chin. “We need to figure out why Loki let us bring him in. He wants something, something he can only get on board this ship. Probably something to hamper our efforts to stop him.”

“So we’ll split up,” Natasha stood, “Stark can help look for the Tesseract. I’ll see what I can get out of Loki; if that doesn’t work, we’ll send Thor in.”

Steve nodded. “I wanna take a look at that sceptre. It may be magical, but it’s an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon.”

“Guess that makes us lab buddies.” Tony smirked.

She gave a strained smile. “Looks like.”

 

The facilities on the helicarrier were pretty high-end for a flying fortress, but from what she’d seen so far Steve didn’t really expect any less. She examined the sceptre’s weird blue inner light under a magnifying screen while Stark ran programs on the other monitors, trying to ignore the rapid clicking as he tapped his stylus against his watch. The staff was powered by something similar to the Cube, but wasn’t the same; she could see the difference – hell, she could almost _feel_ it, a grating frequency that cut through the already tense air.

“I didn’t know you were such a scholar, Agent Rogers.”

She ground her teeth, not turning around. “I was a spy, Stark. They teach you to defuse bombs with the contents of a medicine cabinet. Lots of reading involved.”

“It’s refreshing, actually. From Dad’s tales I half expected you to be some beefed up moron with a huge rack.”

Steve spun angrily, hand clenched against the edge of the table. “Your father might have been a sleaze, but at least he had _some_ manners.”

“This is me being polite.” Stark flashed his teeth.

“I pity the woman who puts up with you.” She snorted.

“Now who’s being rude?” Tony smiled, brows arched, “So much for old timey etiquette.”

The blonde scowled at him. “Don’t you have scans to run?”

“I am,” he spun the screen to display an incomprehensible string of numbers and graphs, “I’ve bypassed SHIELD’s mainframe and cranked it up to 600 teraflops.”

“Well now you’re just trying to annoy me.” She sighed.

Stark beamed. “Yep. Gotta find something to keep me entertained while Jarvis breaks into the secure files.”

Steve’s brow shot up. “What?”

“Yeah,” the inventor stretched lazily, “Thought I’d take a peek at everything our friend Nick isn’t telling us about the Tesseract.”

The word made Steve’s skin crawl, but she pushed it away. “You think there’s more to the story?”

Tony snorted. “This is SHIELD, Rogers. There’s always more.”

She paused, considering it. She didn’t exactly trust Fury; she wasn’t 100% sure she wouldn’t end up punching Stark in the face before the day was over, but at least he was upfront about who he was. “What are you thinking?”

Tony stepped around the screens so he could see her face. “I just installed an arc reactor prototype at Stark Tower that’s gonna revolutionise sustainable living. I’m _the_ clean energy guy, not to mention my dad carried out the original studies on the Tesseract, and I’m an official SHIELD consultant on all things tech. So why wasn’t I brought in?”

“Maybe Fury doesn’t trust you,” she folded her arms, “I can’t blame him.”

“Or maybe he wants to use it for something he knows I won’t approve of. SHIELD aren’t exactly your average power company – they’re not sinking time, money and manpower into researching that thing just so they can fuel their jets more efficiently.”

 

Steve ran a hand over her chin. “Makes sense.”

“Huh. Not the ‘eyes front, soldier’ response I was expecting.”

She shrugged. “I got over my reverence for authority when they told me women weren’t fit to serve.”

Tony snickered, shaking his head.

“That doesn’t mean I wanna dive into this conspiracy theory with you,” she continued, “Whatever Fury’s up to, we still need to work with him to stop Loki’s war. I’m pretty sure none of us want people to get hurt.”

Stark’s smile faded, the inventor turning back to his screens. “Keep an eye out, that’s all I’m saying.”

Steve went back to her analysis but she didn’t know enough about the Cube to make much headway, and she couldn’t stop thinking about what Tony had said. All her niggling doubts about SHIELD were repeating themselves over and over, getting louder, fitting together, until finally she straightened.

“I’m gonna take a walk. Clear my head.”

“Have fun.” Tony said absentmindedly, not looking up.

Steve left the lab and headed towards the hull, happily inconspicuous in her uniform. No one questioned her right to be there as she let herself down into the cargo areas. There were less agents here, and then nobody at all, the blonde slinking through empty corridors. She reached a pair of huge warehouse-like metal doors marked ‘Secure Storage’ and gave a derisive snort.

“Let’s find out how secure, shall we?”

She grabbed the handle and yanked, arms bulging as her muscles strained. The lock was no problem, immediately giving way, but the door’s sheer size made it heavy enough that she had to dig her feet in to slide it open. As soon as she had a wide enough gap she slipped through, gaze scanning the darkness.

It was a sizable room stacked high with steel crates, some about the size of a motorbike, others big enough to hold a car. She glanced up and spotted a second level with smaller crates that looked like they could be carried by a single person without too much effort. They’d be easier to search - she had no idea what she was looking for, but she had questions that needed answers and she wasn’t going to wait for Stark.

Steve jumped onto the gantry and moved to the first pile of crates. She popped the latches and looked inside, but it was just tac gear. The next had film reels; the one after that was bundles of manila folders with information about the Cube, some of it in Howard’s precise handwriting. She searched another two bays of crates and found nothing unusual, just more I.T. equipment and lab paraphernalia.

She reached the end of the row and found a crate that was roughly person-sized. It was made of wood instead of steel, the lid nailed down. Steve looked around for a crowbar, chisel, anything could use to pry it open and found nothing. She sighed and slammed her fist into the lid, putting a giant hole in the wood. Steve ripped at the edges, yanking off pieces until she could see inside.

“What the fuck?”

The blonde reached in and lifted out a mask she still saw in her nightmares, the huge dark eyes staring back at her – and swore again at the gleaming silver pistol that lay in the strew beneath it.

 

Steve stormed down the hallway, bursting into the lab. Fury was right in Stark’s face, schematics and charts covering the screens around them, the two men bickering as Tony pointed at something. She didn’t wait for them to finish, slamming the gun on the table between them.

“We’ve got a problem, director.”

He made a resigned face, hands sliding off his hips. “Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract in case our techs needed it. This does not mean that we’re-”

“I’m sorry Nick,” Tony swung his monitor around to show a detailed warhead design, “What were you lying?”

Steve clenched her jaw. “I had hoped that after seventy years you people knew better, but apparently that was wishful thinking.”

Thor and Natasha walked in, the redhead frowning at the obvious hostility. “What’s going on?”

“Oh nothin’,” Tony wrinkled his nose, “Just SHIELD building weapons of mass destruction. Real nice boss you got there, Romanov.”

Fury shot him a warning look, turning to her. “What did Loki say?”

“Nothing yet. I thought Thor could give it a try.”

“Are you seriously gonna ignore this?” Steve glowered, “You’re producing weapons from the Cube. How does that make you any better than HYDRA?”

“Because I don’t have a _choice_ , Miss Rogers.”

“Bullshit.” She and Tony said at the same time, the inventor flashing her an admiring smirk.

“HYDRA was just a vehicle for Schmidt to pursue his insane goals for world domination. I am trying to protect this planet, and after our last encounter with Loki it became clear I had to step up our defences or we were gonna lose.”

“Your last encounter?” Thor frowned.

“You and your brother managed to level a small town without even trying. Human beings are no longer at the top of the food chain, and for every Thor who wants to help us, there’s a Loki plotting our downfall. Certain moral sacrifices had to be made.”

Steve gave a hollow laugh. “I’m sure that was Schmidt’s logic too.”

“Your work with the Tesseract will not deter those who would prey on your people,” Thor said, “It only signals that you are ready for a higher form of war.”

Tony clucked his tongue. “Wow, that sounds bad.”

Fury glared at him. “Stark, if you’ve got a problem with the way ‘m handling this situation, maybe you shouldn’t have gotten out of the weapons trade.”

“How is this my responsibility, Nick? Am I just supposed to clean up all your messes now?”

Thor chuckled. “I thought humans were more evolved than this.”

Nat regarded him incredulously. “What gave you that idea?”

 

“I don’t want anything to do with this,” Steve pointed at the Tesseract gun, “I barely made it out alive last time!”

Fury scoffed. “So what, you’re throwin’ in the towel? The Earth is in peril, Miss Rogers. You think you can live with yourself if you walk away from that?”

“From what the alien jock’s saying, it’s only in peril because of you, Nicky,” Stark sniffed, “So I guess the question is, how are _you_ gonna live with yourself?”

“This isn’t about SHIELD,” Natasha frowned, “This is Asgard not being able to keep their family squabbles in-house.”

Thor turned on her. “We have been intervening to save your realm since before Midgardians could read and write. Perhaps you would do better to keep your peace about our business, after such devoted service.”

“Devoted?” she laughed, “Where have you been for the last thousand years? We’re tearing each other apart down here.”

The volume slowly crept until everyone was yelling, Natasha and Thor continuing their argument in the background as Steve shot back at Fury.

“You don’t get to pass judgement on me,” she snapped, “You weren’t there – you didn’t see what Schmidt did with your own eyes. That Cube is bad news for everyone around it. Loki’s just proved that.”

“And what do you suggest we do with it, hand it over to the Asgardians? They’ve got enough of an advantage as it is.”

“My people mean you no harm, director!” Thor insisted.

Fury fisted his hands at his sides. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you when I’ve got an _Asgardian_ prisoner who wants to conquer the world and turn us into his slaves!”

“I’d bet everything I own that those missiles get fired on human targets long before an alien threat.” Tony folded his arms over his chest.

“Mr Stark, are you an expert on extra-terrestrial life forms? I must have missed that in your file – the only thing written there was a laundry list of character flaws.”

“Thanks to Romanov!” the inventor glared at her.

“I thought you preferred it when I was honest, Tony.” The redhead stared back evenly.

“Maybe you should take a leaf out of Rogers’ book and try not to throw everyone you meet under a train.”

Steve reeled, eyes burning into his face. “ _What_ did you say?”

Tony looked confused for a second before his eyes widened. “Shit – I did’t mean-”

“What would you know about being part of a team, Stark?” she poked him in the chest, “I read your file too. You’re a loner, only interested in rewriting your own sad story. The people you save are just background characters, props to make you feel better about yourself.”

“At least I save them.”

 

She thought about hitting him, arm flexing in preparation – and stopped, eyes locked on the faint blue glow emanating from the staff. Steve glanced at the others, Fury and Natasha still arguing with Thor, Tony standing right in front of her with a murderous look. The blonde nudged him aside, taking two steps to the table, and shoved the sceptre off.

It fell with a clatter that was too loud in the ensuing silence. The group looked dazed, Tony frowning at the floor, Thor blinking rapidly. Fury’s scowl didn’t budge.

“We can’t afford to damage that staff, Rogers.”

She felt the bile rising in the back of her mouth again. “Sir-”

The computer beeped and Tony jerked around like he’d been shot.

“The Tesseract?” Thor asked hopefully.

An invisible wrecking ball smashed into the lab and blew them off their feet. Steve tumbled across the floor, slamming into Tony as glass rained over them. Her ears rang, the dull whine fading as she pulled herself up. There was a hole in the floor where Thor and Natasha had been. She reached a hand out to help Stark up.

“Time to get moving!”

“Yep.” he took it, letting her pull him to his feet.

They ran into the hallway, Steve having to remind herself to slow down so Tony could keep up. “Where’s your suit?”

“Storage locker – up ahead on the left.”

“How fast can you get into it?”

He winked at her. “Almost as fast as I get out of it.”

Steve groaned. “Really? Now?”

“We’re in the middle of a crisis, Rogers. I gotta get ‘em in while I can.”

*****

Steve backed towards the lever and fired again, the gun jolting in her grip. Loki’s man threw himself out of the way, his own rifle barking as he aimed wildly. The ship pitched at an angle, dropping with a lurch, and Steve fought to keep her footing. The rogue agent leaned around the wall to fire again and she backed up, stepping on a piece of metal grate that shifted as the helicarrier tilted. Steve’s legs went out from under her, the blonde scrambling to grab onto a loose cable. Her gloved fingers closed around it, sliding down until she reached the end with a sudden jerk.

Steve dangled below the ship, legs kicking as she swung chaotically. Her shoulders ached, the joints complaining as her full weight dragged at the tendons. She looked down at the great emptiness between her and the water, and bile rose heavy in her throat as her vision went white. She was staring at the snow again, the train roaring in her ears as she reached for Bucky, his eyes so frightened as he strained to get to her. His hand was clenched so tight on the railing, hair blown back from his face, and Steve could only scream as she watched him drop.

The cable slipped and Steve clutched it tighter, fighting the static in her brain. If she lost her focus now, she was dead – but still she couldn’t shake the image of Bucky’s terror, of his arm in the snow, his blood on the mountainside. She tried telling her arms to move but they wouldn’t; she tried to close her eyes but they were glued on the faraway sea. Her thoughts were scattered, disconnected, starting and stopping at random and never forming a coherent idea. She couldn’t get enough oxygen in the thin air, her heart hammering as she hung there like bait waiting to get swallowed up.

It wasn’t just the drop, either. The waves seemed to lap at her like hungry predators, and she remembered the way they’d looked as the plane went down, as the snow had rushed towards her like an ominous, inevitable white wall. Maybe they wanted her back. Maybe she’d have been better off if she’d never woken up, and just let them have her. It hurt less in that place where she didn’t have to think, didn’t even dream. If she let go, she wouldn’t have to fight any more.

The blonde growled. “Since when do you ever walk away from a fight?”

She shoved her memories back, focusing on the individual sensations around her. She could feel the cables through her gloves; she could hear engines and shooting. She could see fire if she tilted her head back far enough. She was trailing behind a flying warship on an inch-thick rope.

“Fuck.” The agent sighed.

They were falling faster now, Steve’s body pulled horizontal by the force. She swung violently for another second and then the helicarrier levelled off, the cable slowing enough that she could shift her grip. She blinked to clear her vision and started pulling herself up hand over hand, inching closer to the platform – but she paused to spit into the water, partly to tell the ocean what she thought of it and partly to get the metal fear taste out of her mouth.

“Rogers, I need the lever!” Tony yelled over the comms.

“I need a minute here!” she ground out.

“Lever, now!”

Steve swore and lunged forward, launching her top half over the platform and immediately ducking again as shots whipped past her head.

“Uh oh. Rogers!” Tony cried out.

She reached for the red lever, fingers slipping for a second before they caught. She yanked it down, raising herself to her hands and knees on shaking arms as the enemy agent fired another salvo that she had no energy to dodge. A red and gold blur streaked into her attacker, both of them disappearing into the helicarrier with a thunk.

She was halfway through a relieved sigh when Fury’s voice cut over the comms. “Agent Coulson is down.”

“Paramedics are on their way.” Someone replied.

“They’re here,” the director said, Steve holding her breath, “They called it.”

 

Steve flattened her palms against the ops room table. The bridge was silent, people staring blankly at their screens. Tony had changed into clean clothes, sitting in the chair opposite her with a lost, confused expression that made her want to give him a hug and swear she’d make it right.

“We’re dead in the air up here.”

Steve frowned at the director’s choice of words, but he stared her down unapologetically.

“We’ve lost our communications, the Tesseract’s location, Thor, Loki. You’re all I’ve got left.”

Tony didn’t move, face still cloudy. Fury turned to Steve.

“I should have told you about Phase 2. I think you understand why I didn’t, but it wasn’t fair, Agent Rogers. It’s easy for us to forget this is all very recent for you.”

She blinked slowly, clearing her throat. “Thank you, sir.”

“Now we gotta put our disagreements behind us and focus on the impending crisis. We need to locate the Tesseract, people – at the very least we need eyes on Loki again, and with our equipment fried we’re not gonna find him from here. Stark, are you still connected to your private servers? I’d like to run our facial recognition search through them until our own network’s back up.”

Tony didn’t answer. Steve frowned at him, biting her tongue.

Fury raised a brow. “Stark? Stark. Tony!”

The billionaire stood and tossed a small black USB at the director, who caught it unthinkingly. “Jarvis will let you in.”

He strode out without another word. Steve gave Fury a worried look. “Do you need me for anything, sir?”

“Go ahead, agent. We’ll let you know when we’re ready to move.”

She nodded and took off after Tony. He was already out of sight but she closed her eyes and listened for the strange hum of the arc reactor, instantly spotting it amongst the other groans and vibrations of the ship. It seemed odd to her that no one else could hear it; it was such a distinctive sound, a cross between a machine and a heartbeat. She wondered if Stark even knew it was there.

She followed the sound to the containment chamber. Stark was leaning over the rail, staring at the empty cell, his back to the blood-stained wall. Steve stopped at the top of the stairs, not wanting to intrude too much. They weren’t exactly pals, but she had to say something.

 “You knew him?”

Tony didn’t turn around. “He babysat me once.”

Steve smiled. “Poor man.”

The inventor glanced over his shoulder with a tiny smile. “Yeah. He did better than most though. Very intimidating, that whole quiet assuming look.”

“I’m sorry.” She said softly.

“Not your fault he was an idiot.” Tony half-shrugged.

 

Steve raised her brows. “Why? For trying to do the right thing?”

“For taking on Loki alone.”

“He was doing his job.”

“He was out of his league, and he should have known that. He should have waited for backup, he should have…” he trailed off, sighing.

“Sometimes we don’t have a choice, Tony. Coulson seemed like the kinda guy who couldn’t let Loki get away if there was a chance other people would get hurt. He did what he thought he had to.”

Stark pushed off the railing and scoffed at her, walking away. “Of course you see it as a noble sacrifice. You’re the queen of martyrdom. But maybe if you greater-good types stopped and used your heads for five seconds, you’d see how stupid it is to throw your life away when there are other options.”

Steve pushed away the sting of his words, focussing on Tony’s very real pain. “Is this the first time you’ve lost a soldier?”

“We are _not_ soldiers!” the inventor snapped, “I’m not one of Fury’s minions.”

“I never thought you were. For the record, I’m not either. I’m just tryin’ to get the job done, whatever it takes, same as you – same as Coulson.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, turning away. “What if it’s too much, huh? What if winning costs everything? Is it still worth it?”

Steve thought about Bucky falling through endless space, eyes desperate and afraid. “It has to be. The world’s bigger than us, Tony.”

Stark stuck his lip out, arms folded across his chest. The silence between them dragged on. Steve was about to ask if he knew about the arc reactor noise when he spoke.

“We need to figure out Loki’s endgame.”

“Right,” she shook the thought off, “He wants to open a portal and let his troops in.”

“He needs somewhere to set it up. Probably somewhere they can launch straight into an attack?” Tony said thoughtfully.

“A point of strategic importance. The Pentagon? A military base?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think these guys do government the way we do, with separate countries and leaders. They won’t target any one nation in particular. They’ll pick a place that’s iconic, somewhere that will get Earth’s attention and frighten us.”

“A show of strength.” Steve nodded.

“So where is Selvig gonna find a power source big enough to jumpstart the Tesseract, in a place that would draw every eye on the planet?” Tony frowned, eyes suddenly widening, “Son of a bitch!”

She gave him a grim smile. “Time to go.”


	3. Epilogue

“I’m tellin’ you Rogers, you’d make a good UFC fighter. You’ve got all the right ingredients: strength, speed, winning smile.” Tony popped a piece of falafel in his mouth.

Steve shook her head. “It’s cheating, Tony. I’ve got an unfair advantage.”

“So? Nobody knows that. You could make a bucketload.”

“I don’t need the money, and I don’t wanna be famous. Right now I’m just happy to be alive.”

Clint snorted, mouth full of shawarma. “I’ll second that.”

Natasha gave him a fond look but didn’t say anything, taking another bite of her own meal. Thor had an entire platter in front of him, working through it steadily in a way that made Steve genuinely concerned. It was strangely quiet in the café, the TV in the corner silent thanks to a huge hole in the screen. Two employees were sweeping up wreckage, eyeing the Avengers every few minutes with stunned, vacant expressions. Steve was too tired to try to put them at ease; she was almost too tired to eat, but her stomach demanded she keep going.

“So Fury’s probably gonna wanna yammer at us for ages, huh?” Tony said, wiping garlic sauce out of his moustache with a crumpled napkin.

“Totally,” Clint nodded, “Full debrief. Written reports, psych eval, Medical checkup.”

“Sounds boring.”

“It’s necessary.” Steve said.

“Maybe, but is it necessary right now? I don’t know about you guys but I could sleep for a week.” Stark yawned.

Natasha’s lips quirked. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well the Tower’s trashed, but we could move this party to Stark Manor. Take a long weekend, relax, stuff ourselves with celebratory cake. I have some very good masseurs on call.”

“Regretfully, Man of Iron, I must return Loki to Asgard to face judgement for his crimes.”

“And as much as I hate sitting in Medical, I think it’s non-negotiable after the brain scrambling thing.” Hawkeye grimaced.

“Normally you’d be dead to me Barton, but I’ll make an exception because of your condition. Rogers, Romanov? Don’t let me down, ladies.” Tony winked.

“I’m in,” the redhead shrugged, “I could use a vacation and a _lot_ of cocktails. Steve?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose. You must be eager to spend time with Miss Potts, and I-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Stark flapped a hand, “It’s a big house, we’ll have plenty of privacy. Is it cos you knew my dad? Is it weirding you out? Cos I took down all the portraits of him in the guest rooms.”

“I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

“I’m inviting you, Rogers. Kinda implies you’re welcome.”

“Come on Steve,” Natasha nudged her, “It’ll be fun.”

“You’re siding with him?” the blonde smiled.

“For once.”

Steve sighed, toying with the paper wrapping on her shawarma. “I guess I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“That’s the spirit! I’ll make some calls, have them get the house ready.” Tony pulled out his phone.

“I feel a bit guilty taking time off when I’ve only been back on the job a couple days.” She said sheepishly.

Clint snorted, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure you earned it, boss.”

“Boss?” her lips wobbled, caught somewhere smiling and crying.

“You were good out there,” the archer jerked his head at the gaping hole where the front window used to be, “I’d be happy to team up a couple more missions.”

“Not if I get her first.” Nat smirked.

Tony paused his conversation, holding up a finger. “Uh, both of you need to get in line, because I have several projects I might want Miss Rogers’ help on.”

“Like what, Stark? You’re not even proper SHIELD!” Barton screwed up his face.

Steve watched as they fought over her, Natasha and Clint arguing affectionately while Tony tried to butt in and still give instructions to the person on the other end of phone, and even though she’d never been more tired she couldn’t help feeling like maybe things were going to be okay.


End file.
